


Just So's You Know

by SpiteMeister



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bilba is a Journalist, F/F, Female Bilbo, Female Thorin, Femslash Friday, Gandalf is mentioned in passing, It's just these two, Kissing, Room in a ski resort, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 16:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiteMeister/pseuds/SpiteMeister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilba, at the behest of an old teacher (Professor Gandalf), has been working on uncovering the true story of Thorin Oakenshield, who was accused of terrorist activity almost 20 years ago. Just as Bilba concluded interviews with this controversial figure and people associated with her, Thorin was assassinated. Bilba presents her findings at a conference held at a ski resort (of all things), and then gets the surprise of her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just So's You Know

After the door to her room closed behind her, she let her back thump against the thick metal. Bilba closed her eyes in exhaustion as she undid her trench coat, tilting her head back with a sigh. The air of the hotel room, stale and sterile, flooded her nose. She could fall asleep right here with her back to the door. This was a bitter victory, finally taking the responsible parties to task with thorough research. Accountability. This was a journalist's wet dream, if their eyes were still shaded by rose-tinted glasses of idealism. Once her coat fell to the floor, a reluctance to move set in.

She forced herself away from the door and went into shadows of the room, unlit save for lingering light coming through the cracks of the closed curtains. Bilba flipped the lights on, threw her coat onto the bed, and sat down on the chair in the corner as she fiddled with the radiator's controls. The room was cast in that yellow light she hated so much, so she opened the curtains as she waited for the heat to come full-force. The sun was quickly fleeing for the horizon, and darkness crept for the summits of the mountains. The ski-lifts had stopped running, and the resort was settling for the night. Bilba rubbed her hands over her face and then cursed silently when she remembered that she was wearing heavier-than-usual makeup. She fell across the room's queen-size bed, and reached for the remote for the TV. There was a knock on the door.

Bilba tried staying silent, hoping that whoever it was would just go away. There was another knock. She rolled her eyes and got up.

Without looking out the peephole, she opened the door. Her heart almost stopped when she saw Thorin on the other side. The woman was a little more gaunt than before, with her hair pulled into a loose ponytail, and wearing somewhat-tattered clothes. There was a backpack on her shoulders. It looked like she'd been camping.

“You're not a ghost?” Her eyes must have looked like they were popping from her skull.

“Prob'ly not. I smell, don't I?” The gravelly, low voice was familiar. And now that Thorin had mentioned it, Bilba did notice a smell. It was hardly unpleasant. Her knees felt weak, and she gripped the door for support. When Bilba didn't respond, Thorin came close enough to take her arm and walk her over to the bed. She put her bag on the chair, and rifled through it.

“You thirsty? I got some water.” Thorin brought out a canteen. She sniffed it, and put it down. “Hang on, that ain't water.” She found a different canteen, the contents of which were poured into two cups provided by the hotel.

Bilba could only stare at this woman she had believed to be dead not three minutes ago. And here she was, pouring her water like she did for all the interviews they'd done. Almost on cue: “Where're all the questions you usually got lined up?” Thorin asked with a smirk, settling back into the chair.

“How?” Bilba asked, hoping that she would catch her meaning.

Thorin leaned to the side briefly in order to sling one of her legs over the other, then answered: “It's been tossed around fer a while that I need t' _really_ disappear. We knew it'd be best to fake my death.”

Bilba took a sip of water, trying to still her nerves. Last thing she wanted to do was faint. Or throw up. She was feeling nauseous. “We?”

“Me n' the Rev'rend Doctor Gandalf. Among others,” Thorin amended after thinking on it for a second. “The only catch was yer project. Gandalf wanted me t' stick aroun' long enough t' help you. Said that I make my story known before shootin' through.”

It irritated Bilba that her project had been viewed as a delay, an inconvenience, but it explained why Throin had seemed so brusque for the first few meetings. It didn't excuse the slip. “You didn't think to tell me?”

That gave Thorin pause. She looked at the younger woman, truly considering her. “I didn' think it'd matter t'you.”

Bilba's jaw dropped. “What the actual fuck. Are you shitting me? You've been the focal point of my life for the last year!” She stood up, waving her arms around as she made her argument. The water sloshed in her cup, and somewhere in the back of her mind she hoped that no one was looking into her particular window. “Most of my romantic relationships haven't lasted that long! I _know_ you're not supposed to make other people's problems your own, and the first rule of being professional is being impersonal, but _seriously!_ What the actual fuck!” She stopped when she saw Thorin's expression. “What?”

“I didn' think you were too involved. You been nothin' but professional, and I never coulda found any fault with the way you did things. I don' think anyone ever would. If that's what yer worried about…”

“No, no, no…” Bilba said, now at a loss to explain how she felt. Some distant part of her psyche was telling her that she was on the verge of an honest-to-god breakdown. Between a month's worth of grieving Thorin's death, the nerve-wracking experiences of presenting her expose at a conference, being questioned by various law enforcement agencies, and now the shock of seeing this woman alive, she was beginning to feel reality get away from her. Uh-oh. She felt the tears welling up. “Look…I-” her breath hitched and everything came flooding out in her wobbly voice. She tried very hard to keep her voice down. “You've always been like a rockstar to me. I was only six when you went into hiding, so I grew up hearing the propaganda against you. The story was never complete and it bothered me and you were this symbol for everything distant and mysterious and dangerous and awesome and then I met you and the mystery wasn't solved because I couldn't tell what you thought of me and I wanted you to like me and then I wanted to tell your story because it felt like mine too and I was just swept away by your magnetic personality and-”

Bilba blushed all the way down to her chest, knowing it was too late to take back her confession. Having told the truth, holding Thorin's gaze, she felt vulnerable and breathless, so she sat down on the bed again. A twinge between her thighs told her how her body felt about her development. This moment would have been a lot hotter if her nose wasn't running faster than her tears.

Thorin gave her a side-long glance, reaching into her bag and pulling out tissues for Bilba. “It really matters t'you?” Bilba nodded as she dabbed at her face and daintily blew her nose, not trusting her voice anymore. “Do my motives matter t'you?”

Bilba took a shaky breath. “At first I was cautious about taking sides, but over time I truly began to empathize with your principles,” Bilba admitted. Thorin's expression softened considerably.

“So. Y'know ev'rything about me. What d'you think?”

“I'm not sure that I know everything about you, but I believe that you are a wonderful person even with every flaw that the public perceives.”

Thorin looked down at the green and off-white carpet, her now-uncrossed legs planted apart from each other. Bilba looked at the carpet too. It was probably beautiful once, dark green and snow white. Now it was flat and a little crusty. Outside, snow had begun to fall, and it was back-lit by the lights of the resort. Friendly shouting came from down the hall, where two people called out to each other. Bilba studied Thorin like she would if she was writing a piece.

_The tall, bold woman sits across from me, using up space like a Queen on a throne. She is beautiful even with graying hair and a sharp face created by years of hardship. Her clothes have seen better days, from the ragged jeans that coalminers might have worn, to the broken-in hiking boots, to the sweatshirt that looks like it wouldn't keep out a breeze. The lines are a little deeper on her face than they were when I last saw her, but there are now wrinkles around her eyes. She must have been smiling a lot in that time. The sharpness of her blue eyes miss nothing, and I can tell she is sizing me up the way I am to her. When she speaks, her low voice gives one the impression of an Earth Mother. This is not a woman who has failed to help those in need; this is a woman whose favor has not been returned._

Thorin cleared her throat, and Bilba could feel her ears redden when she realized what she had been doing. “I'm real moody, n' I never grew outta my bad attitude.”

Bilba frowned. What was that supposed to mean? “So?”

The sheepish look on Thorin's face was something Bilba had never seen before. “I'm gettin' on in years.” She sounded vulnerable.

Bilba now had a feeling what it was that Thorin was trying to do. Could it be? She felt her heart flutter, telling herself that this could end badly, that she was mistaken, that she shouldn't hope for this. “You're older than I am, if that's what you mean,” she said, testing the waters. “But why's this a problem?”

Thorin looked thankful that Bilba hadn't tried to say something like 'Oh, you're not old' or 'But you look good for your age!' Bilba knew from experience that sugar-coating her words in Thorin's presence made her a target for derision. It came from years of people trying to dumb down their language, thinking that because of the way she spoke, Thorin was not intelligent. Thorin pursed her lips like she was coming up with something else: she didn't disappoint. “I forget t'thank those who've helped me.”

Without missing a beat, Bilba reassured her: “But it's never too late to thank people for what they have done for you. It may even mean more that you've considered their importance and you want to acknowledge them.”

“I never thanked you,” Thorin said, “and I got a lot t'thank you for. Not jus' fer tellin my story, but fer the understandin' 'n patience ya shown. Yer really somethin'.”

The intensity of the eye contact was sending jolts of heat through Bilba's body. She didn't know what to say.

Without getting out of her chair, Thorin said, “Before I leave t'night – 'n jus so y'know, I ain't leavin' forever – can I kiss you?”

Bilba nodded, not thinking twice, and when nothing happened, she said, “Yes.”

Everything slowed down as Thorin rose from the chair and sat close to Bilba on the bed. _Oh my God oh my God oh my God._ The sudden closeness, the heat, the sound, feel, and smell of the older woman's breath; Bilba felt anxious as this larger-than-life woman closed in. _It's really happening. She can't really mean to -_ Thorin swept her into her arms and quickly, tilting Bilba's head, pressed her lips to Bilba's.

It was electric.

Both solid and suddenly soft, those lips caused Bilba to feel a slow, definite wave of desire spread through her being, forcing her to press harder into Thorin. She – oh my god – she wanted so bad to be closer. The taste of the kiss, the sweet, musky smell of Thorin. For a moment, she imagined she could smell arousal. Feeling like a complete trollop, Bilba rolled over so that she was sitting in Thorin's lap. Before Bilba could doubt her choice, Thorin's hands grabbed her lower back in a steady grip. She ground her hips against the older woman's body. She groaned into the kiss shamelessly. This was exactly how much she's always wanted her. Thorin raised one hand to Bilba's cheek, fingers tweaking her ear before scraping into her hair. Bilba steadied herself on Thorin by grasping her shoulders and neck. Their mouths undulated together, creating a pulse; press in, pull back, press, pull, suck the bottom lip, caress the tongue, press in, pull back. At least Bilba was no longer the only one moaning and mewling softly.

When they truly pulled away from each other, they breathlessly held each other's gaze even as they held the other's body close. Thorin gave one more slow and intimate kiss.

Press in. Wet. Pull back.

Bilba grinned, holding back a giggle. Thorin mirrored it, and more was said than spoken. She buried her face in Thorin's shoulder, playing with the woman's ponytail and sometimes kissing her neck. Thorin gently rubbed her back.

Thorin hummed after a while, and said, “I gotta talk t'my nephews, since they dunno I'm alive. Maybe I'll see my sister, if she's with 'em.” Bilba noted that Thorin was more talkative than usual. “Maybe t'morrow I'll look at what Oín 'n Gloín got fer me. After that…” Thorin trailed off, pausing her loving ministrations to Bilba's back.

“Yes?” Bilba asked softly, next to her ear. She decided to nibble the outer part gently. Thorin sighed appreciatively, and began rubbing her back again, letting one hand wander lower.

“How long're you in town?”

Bilba half-thought about it for a moment, distracted by the hand gently massaging one of her cheeks. She absentmindedly wiggled her bottom, and liked the groan she got in response. “Gandalf hasn't given me any new leads, but job offers have been pouring in.” Bilba smiled against the soft skin behind Thorin's ear. She lay a few kisses there. “Someone even said that they were interested in working with the next Walter Lippman.”

That got a laugh out of Thorin, and the vibrations carried into Bilba's body. Bilba had never seen her so happy.

She pulled back from the older woman to look into her eyes, still straddling her. “I have no immediate plans, but I am staying here for the rest of the conference,” Bilba said.

“So, can I see you again t'morrow night?” From the glimmer of mischief in those blue eyes, there was something more behind that – or so Bilba hoped. She wiggled her hips playfully against Thorin again; and got a small thrust in response.

But Bilba did have a serious question. “You're not scared of being caught?”

Thorin sighed and averted her eyes. Bilba was worried that she had destroyed the moment. “I'm so used to bein' on the run. I got – what's that fancy word – _desensitized_ t'the stress long ago. 'S always in the back 'a my mind, but I feel more free now than'n _years_.” Thorin grinned, and reached over her own shoulder with one hand to hold up her long ponytail. “I'm due fer a style change anyway, so that should help. So … I'm welcome?”

“Of course!” Bilba hurried to answer, putting her hands on Thorin's shoulders in what she hoped was a reassuring way, “You are always welcome. Since I know better than to come looking for you, please know that I will never turn you away. You truly are always welcome. I will be at this particular hotel for four more nights.” She bit her lower lip, and added, “And Gandalf always knows how to get in contact with me, if need be.”

Translation: _I don't know that you'll actually come tomorrow night, but I will half-expect you each night until you arrive._

Bilba rolled off of her so she could get up and collect her things. At the door, Thorin kissed her again with a long-kiss-that-seemed-too-short, and then finally left the room.

**Author's Note:**

> There's a whole back-story to this, but this is all I've written. A big thank-you to a friend for reading through this for me! (You know who are, but I don't know if you want me to use your name).
> 
> I always love to hear from readers!


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